


Home

by ThornFromARose



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-24 10:23:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10739769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornFromARose/pseuds/ThornFromARose
Summary: Ivar didn't have anyone...he did, but she left him. Like they all did. What he didn't know was that his friend left him, as he left her.I do not own Vikings, that fantastic series. This is merely something I thought up after seeing Ivar in action.





	1. Chapter 1

I find him where I always find him when he wants some time alone. To think. To brew. To be alone with his thoughts, no matter how dark and gruesome they tend to be. But this time something differs. Gone is the hunched over figure, scowling out onto the water. Instead he is on his back, arms behind his head, staring at the sky. 

I lay down beside him, the crunch of the grass reminding me that soon Summer will fade and give way to the cooler hints of Autumn. I study the same sky he looks at, finding it no different to any other night. But I suppose when you’ve stared at the sky for as many nights as I have, you become aware that the stars will outlast any frame of time we are blessed to walk this earth. As I listen to the night around us, I hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat as always. Its powerful, if a little faster than I’m accustomed to hearing. He smirks and imperceptibly moves his head towards my direction to stare at me from the corner of his steely blue eyes. The smile spreads itself across his face even more, and I begin to get nervous. He laughs a little, before swiping one of his hands over his face and rocking his head from side to side. I truly believe he has gone mad. 

“She has asked to meet me tonight”

My face screws up in an expression I’m sure warrants as confusion. While I am sure of the words that he’s just said, I think there is no way that I’ve heard it. I must’ve misheard. This cannot be!

“Did you hear me? She wants me – aha!” he chuckles, and rises on his elbows to let his laughter echo out and be carried across the water for the world to hear. His laughter appears to ripple the very water, and move the forest beyond. A few birds fly out of the trees and into the sky, the rustling of their feathers adding to the symphony of his voice. This is perhaps why he doesn’t hear the shatter of my heart against my chest as it breaks. 

I will everything in my person to display happiness for him, he deserves this. To be happy. After losing so much, and hurting so much, for so long, he deserves happiness. But...don’t I deserve happiness too? 

I hear him prattle on about her, blonde and slim. Daughter of someone important to the next step the brothers have agreed to make. Nobility. Of assured Viking descent. It’s not long before I find myself thinking of everything wrong with me. Why a son of the great Ragnar Lothbrok wouldn’t want me. The bodies of the women here are tall and lithe and I stand out being small and large. My darker complexion highlights the fact that I am not entirely of Viking descent. If that didn’t make me an oddity, the dark curly hair which surrounds my forest coloured eyes places me as an outsider. Different....alone. 

***********  
I never used to be alone I think. I recall when I first arrived at Kattegat, my father depositing me in the care of the Lothbrok family as he went away to wage wars with Ragnar. 

Things were different here. Being younger than the other brothers, and seriously chubby, they held little to no interest in me. Instead gravitating towards my older sister, from my father’s first marriage. Blonde. Pretty. I could see the attraction. 

This left me to playing on my own, or more often than not staying with Loki to learn more about the Viking way. This is where I met my first real playmate. He was surly, aggressive and miserable, and we fought constantly at first. When he realised I would not pander to him, he would find ways to challenge me. Boy did he challenge me. This is where I learned that he was smart. Not just bright, but truly smart. Even as a child he would plot and scheme, observe and really find out what made people tick. The trouble was he was angry. This would be his downfall. 

At first our friendship was built upon the fact that we didn’t really belong with the other children. Eventually it was because we identified in each other a kindred spirit. We learned together, we grew together and eventually when he considered it appropriate to teach a girl, we fought together. And as time passed on I eventually found my home with him.

When my father did not return from Ragnar’s latest mission, he was the only support I needed. He held me as I cried, and made fun of me to make to laugh once more. The years continued to pass, and despite his temper he still proved to be my greatest friend. I noticed the changes to us both, the broad upper body filling out in muscle as he dragged his body around. The blue of his eyes becoming brighter, the stare piercing and unrelenting. The sharpness of his jaw becoming blade like, and the thickness of his hair as it grew and grew. 

I wasn’t a fool, I also took note of the way my heart ran wild when he was near, and that did not happen for any other man. Yet he did not look at me as he looked at the others. There was no lust behind his gaze. While he was my home, I was not his. 

****************  
I track back onto his conversation as the night gets colder, pulling my cape around my body tighter. I listen to him all but spell out that he is to become a proper man tonight. He talks of her beauty and whit. I vaguely recall her being an insipid girl, relying on her looks to curry favour with more than one man, but even to me that sounds cutting and jealous. Instead of saying anything I steel my face and rid it of any emotion. I watch as his eyes fall back to mine, too giddy to notice that I can scarcely breathe. 

“I am glad you are happy Ivar” I murmur when he tells me that he must go and prepare for her. I watch him as he crawls off at a quick pace, away from me. I let the tears fall as he gets further away and I shudder as I watch my home disappear. I look to the sky for sympathy, for comfort and find none. It is then in that moment I vow to Odin that I will move on from Kattegat. I do not say Ivar...I am not sure the Gods have ever liked me enough to grant me that. 

Picking myself off the floor, I make my way back to the village in the shadows. I walk a hasty path to Loki’s cottage, finding him outside staring at the moon. He does not say anything about the redness of my eyes, or the puffiness of my cheeks from where my hands raked at the tears willing them to stop. Instead he informs me that he is planning a trip tomorrow via boat that will prove to be very profitable to us. Before the moon has even reached its peak in the sky, I have agreed to sail with Loki in the morning. 

The boat leaves Kattegat before the sun has truly made its presence known. The lulling of the water calms me, as I take my place on the helm next to Loki. He rests his hand on my shoulder as I look out into the water, as the sails begin to pick up the breeze. Although it pains me like an arrow to the chest, I do not look back. My life and my home is no longer tied to this place.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief look into Ivar's head, and thoughts about his friend.

Ivar steers his ‘wings’ with ease, years of practice has made him confident in steering any horse fit to pull his chariot. He smiles as he thinks of the day his mentor created this for him, and thanks Odin that he will see him once more. The journey to the place that Floki found has been long. It has taken them some time to navigate the waters, the weather and a strange illness that took down half of the men on their way there. But as he gazes on the lustrous vast land that surrounds the place they have docked the ship, he finds himself excited to find out what treasures this land holds. And there must be treasure, for Loki to send word to invite him on a ‘quest’ as he called it. 

It takes them another three days before they reach the settlement Loki has created, much to his displeasure. He is eager to see his mentor, to drink with him and laugh with him once more. He is excited to share with him the stories of his success, of his raids, and how he has not only avenged his father but he has made a name for himself. The Conqueror they call him now, boneless is only the name he was known by. He smiles when he thinks how he, a cripple, has managed to become more famous than his own father. As much as he is excited to share this with his mentor, there is one person who he would’ve loved to share this with even more. 

He remembers the moment so clearly in his mind when he found out she had abandoned him too. It’d been a few days since he had seen her, which was longer than he could ever recall that they’d not spoken. After some short lived days enjoying the stolen kisses, touches and the promise of marriage, he’d given up in his pursuit of the girl when he found her riding his brother in the stables. He’d watched in disdain as she rose up and down on his brother, and crawled away to the hilltop to cry out to the sky and curse the heavens for being born. He’d made it all the way to nightfall alone on the hilltop, before he noticed that his friend hadn’t come to provide him comfort. He had crawled down to the village in the early hours of the morning, and flopped down on his bed determined to punish her for failing him, once he’d rested. 

When he woke, he dragged himself to her quarters surprised to see another in her place. He’d raged at the girl, throwing her out of the bed and destroying a table as she cried and screamed in fear. He was too angry to notice that all the things that were important to her were missing, her sword, her bow and arrows, her mother’s necklace and her father’s arm brace. He continued to throw things around in frustration, and scream at the girl until Ubbe came to drag him outside. 

You continued to rage and curse, until he told you the very words that made you quiet down. He told you that you had left. You had left Kattegat. You had left him. Abandoned him. His chest feels tight, and he can scarcely draw breath or hold back the tears as Ubbe looks at him with pity. You push down the tears, as you pant ferociously before crawling back into the room and tear everything down. 

As you continued to destroy the room some time later, he found something that had been left behind. The small sliver of silver peaked at him from under her furs, mocking him. He fingered the bracelet, taking in the crude etching of a wolf amongst the runes of protection he had learned from Loki that week. The very bracelet she had promised never to take off, for it would protect her. 

He had meant to throw it in the fire at the blacksmiths when he found out she had left later that day. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. This was how he found himself years later, a grown man, still carrying a bracelet inside his tunic that his child self had given to his only friend. 

**************

Ivar stares out from his chariot, taking in the snow topped mountains in the distance as he thinks on the last time he saw your face. He wasn’t really looking at you, but he did notice you were wearing a dress for once. Pretty. A slatey blue he thinks, somewhat like the mountains they are drawing closer and closer too.   
He thinks about how he longed for you once you had left. There was no one to joke with; to smile with; to dream with. He had no one that was his anymore. His father had died, his mother was slaughtered. While his brothers were around, they were never truly present. Ubbe, the closest to him, would still pity the cripple. You had never pitied him. No you had challenged him, laughed with him, laughed at him, and protected him when you could. It had been many years since he had heard your name, as the villagers soon forgot you after you had left. But not he. Although he never spoke your name out loud, he heard it shouted in his head a million times. His friend...

As they near the village, Ivar sees his old mentor walking towards him, smiling like the crazy person he knows him to be. The sun has aged him he thinks, but there is no mistaking those eyes and smile, nor the way he leaps up onto his chariot to embrace him, and welcome him. Ivar feels proud that he is welcomed first. Him, the true heir of Ragnar. Now battle tested, and successful. His legs are no longer his burden, they are the very reason he has triumphed. He watches as his brothers are welcomed, and they are ushered towards the village. They settle in quickly, and are brought food and ale. Once their bellies are filled, he watches as one of his brothers is charmed by one of the servant girls and they wander off away from the hall. He listens to some more of the conversation, all the while scanning the hall looking for dark curls. Eventually he notices Floki laughing at him, his shoulders bouncing and eyes creasing in glee. 

“What is it you old lunatic?”

“Looking for someone cripple?” 

Ivar feels himself stiffen slightly, before he sips his ale hastily. No he’s not looking for someone. Not at all.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two old friends meet again.....

They’ve been at the village for a week, and as much as he’s enjoyed catching up with his mentor and the strange foods they’ve eaten, he wants to start on the elusive quest. But so far Loki has only mentioned that he’s waiting on his right hand arriving. As far as he can tell his right hand is still attached...so what’s the hold-up he wanders? 

On the eighth night as they are eating, one of the villager boys runs in and whispers to Floki excitedly. Ivar watches as Floki laughs, pats him on his back and stands up. Before long a flurry of people walk into the great hall, much to the delight of the villagers. Various men break off and claim women and children, while a solitary figure walks down the centre of the hall, dressed all in black leather. Ivar watches in silence, eyes open and alert as he takes in the uniquely dressed individual. Whoever it is isn’t very tall, but their presence is captivating all the same. He cannot see beyond the cape and hood, although he can make out a very large blade at an angle on their back. He watches as Floki walks towards them, smiling like a maniac. Before he clasps the figure to him, and embraces them tightly. As this happens, the hood of the cape falls back, unearthing the mystery figure. 

The years have changed her appearance, but she is still completely familiar to him. Her once long curly hair has been cut shorter, and it now frames her chin. The parts of her arms he can make out are covered in soot and blood, but they appear strong and firm. Her face is equally graced with dirt and blood, but those eyes, they are still the same. Green, lush and proud. He watches her as she greets Loki like a father, hugging him and clasping him tightly. 

Ivar hears Loki call out for silence as he welcomes back his ‘daughter’, to the thunderous applause of the villagers. He watches as she smiles, teeth white against the blood smeared around her face. He hears her voice, musical but deep announce that their trip was successful, and watches as she slings two heads out of a bag. One of the heads wears a crown of some sort and is pretty much intact. The other however is gouged and grotesque. He watches as she hands them to Floki, and they laugh together over her triumph. They embrace again, and he watches as the villagers cheer and drink, and lose themselves in the success of her battle. 

From his seat, he scans the crowd and notices several men looking at her admiringly. Some toast each other, while their heated gazes scan her figure. Others move through the crowd to be closer to her and Floki, waiting their turn like cattle. Ivar hunkers down in his seat, embarrassed that he feels angry that these men honestly think they stand a chance with you. He has seen you fight, you could take any of those goons in battle! 

It’s then that Floki looks to him, and announces that the sons of Ragnar have joined them. Ivar notices her tense slightly, before she is turned by Floki towards him and his brothers. He sees her greet his brothers, and is disgusted when Hvitserk smiles at her too much, and Ubbe drags her into an embrace. 

“Of course you remember Ivar little wolf” 

Ivar stares at her determinedly, and is surprised when she only half looks at him before answering. 

“Of course. Welcome Ivar, it is good to see you”

“Is it?” he answers back almost instantly, adjusting his body in the chair to lean more in her direction. He continues to look at her, trying to work out why she won’t look at him.   
The moment crackles between them as her once expressive face doesn’t show him anything. He’d prided himself on being able to read people, to understand them, but she doesn’t have a single tell. 

As he waits impatiently for an answer, two large hands grip her around her waist and she is lifted from the ground by a huge man. He watches as her laughter rings through the air, and she embraces the giant back gleefully. As she would have embraced Ivar many years ago, when they were young and dreamed of being great warriors one day. He watches as she is carried away, villagers cheering and toasting to her success, as he slinks further back into his chair, a spectator from the side lines once more. 

*************

He gets more and more angry as the night continues, hearing the tale of your victory spouted by various men, the giant always at your side. The ale continues to be shared liberally, although he notices you do not take a sip. Instead he watches you pick a little at the food, and smile listening to the conversation, although it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

Ubbe taps your shoulder, commanding your attention briefly. “Ylva has changed greatly has she not brother?”

Ivar murmurs in response, and becomes instantly annoyed when Hvitserk grins far too widely in agreement. “Ylva has changed. For the better I think” Hvitserk answers, downing some more ale and looking at Ivar for any sort of response. Ivar smiles briefly in his direction, and picks at some meat, passing the charred shreds between his lips and forcing himself to chew. 

*********************

The food has long since finished being served, but the hall remains full and ale continues to be served as frequently as it is spilled. Women charm men, and men charm women. Yet Ivar sits in his seat stewing. He has refused various offers from women that evening angrily, which stops others from offering. Although intrigued by their shapely figures, he learned years ago that he cannot fully satisfy a woman. The slave girl made sure people knew that. Now he never even tries. 

As he nurses his drink, Ivar watches her discreetly as the giant remains a shadow. When a young boy provides her a flower, he watches a genuine smile spreads its way across her face. It’s at that point he considers the tiredness on her face, and the way her shoulders droop slightly. His fingers flex around his cup in frustration, before he chastises himself. She left him after all he reminds himself, not for the first time that evening. 

Given that he has kept an eye on her all evening, it’s no surprise that he notices the moment she makes an exit from the hall stealthily. He follows her, leaving the villagers drunk and his brothers draped over various women. He follows her away from the village, and into the forest. He has practiced the art of being silent as he crawls, and avoids the leaves and roots that will let her know he is following her. She comes to a lake, and despite the chill of the night he sees her begin to shed her weapons. She places the sword down slowly, and strokes the holder in reverence almost. He knows without looking at it, who the blade belonged too, and is surprisingly touched that she has kept it all those years. He doesn’t even notice that one of his hands have wandered to locate the cool metal of the bracelet that lives in his tunic. 

Ivar continues to watch you remove a few weapons he never noticed before. Small, discreet, before she lets the black cape flop to the floor. He takes in the black leather of the clothing, considering it a strange colour to adorn a woman, yet it suits her entirely. While considering this, he barely notices that he chest plate has been removed swiftly, along with her arm guards. 

When he finally realises this, he has every intention of looking away. He really does. Or at least that’s what he tells himself. But he finds himself transfixed as she unearths her body from the layers of black bloodied leather. He stills, heart hammering against his chest as she peels off her clothing, exposing her skin to the night sky. He sees a design etched onto her back, but he’s too far back to work out what it is. He does know that it stretches the length of her spine, and kisses the top of her shapely bottom. His eyes take in its fullness, before glancing at the strong legs underneath. While not long like the women’s he has seen, they are thick and strong he determines. His eyes scan back up her body slowly to take in the small waist, and strong arms. Splashes of dirt and blood staining the skin here and there, in no definitive order. 

The longer he stares at her, he starts to feel...different. He feels hot, and cold. Focused but unfocused. It must be the ale he decides, too much ale. Or perhaps it was that weird meat they made at dinner? 

He crawls forward slowly as she steps towards the water, and watches her disappear as she dunks under, creating ripples in an otherwise still lake. He gets nervous when she doesn’t appear for a while, and lets out an imperceptible sigh of relief when she finally surfaces further out. Water has always made him anxious. The fact he cannot swim being the primary factor. And the heinous first trip to England being another. Shirking that memory quickly, he watches her scrub her arms, her neck...amongst other places, and dunks her hair repeatedly before leaning back on the water. As she floats, she turns slightly and he catches a glimpse of her full breasts. His breathing becomes ragged, and he finds himself repeatedly licking his lips. He means to turn away and leave her in peace, but he waits. Every hammer of his heart telling him to turn, but he looks more and more determinedly at the water until her body turns more and he finally catches a glimpse of her middle. Dark curly hair, highlighted by the moon’s light. 

Beautiful. 

That is the only word he can fathom to describe what he is seeing as he watches his one time friend float in the water. His eyes strain to make out the colour of her nipples, and he gets frustrated when the moon light doesn’t provide enough light for him to answer that mystery. Before long he finds himself swallowing hard, and panting slightly as he watches her relax in the water. As he shifts his hips he feels a sudden tightness from his trousers. Looking down at himself he sees part of himself, something he had assumed was broken. It’s straining against his trousers, and he can feel it throbbing. He lightly palms his trousers and jumps back instantly when he feels how sensitive he is. This can’t be happening he thinks. Odin’s beard this can’t be happening. 

His eyes scramble back up when he hears splashing from the water, as he watches the cause of his pain.....and the cause of his joy slip under the fluid blanket.


End file.
